Wednesday 12/28/2011 11:48:00 PM

turn the corner of the flower. must find the corner first. the severe and isolated angle. that speaks only after it has been heard.

her stage eclipses her dialogue. the crude rudiments of touch. fail. as both a bridge and a measure. her scene echoes. soft footsteps prick the stage. pin holes in mountains. a rowboat upon the ocean.

wearing her eyes backward. she looks at the choices. the smothering depths which inspire. both greatness and despair. she searches the mire. for the arrogant fulcrums in this dubious balancing act.

creasing the paper. drawing an invisible map. the child. the woman. a blade of grass vying for a single ray from the sun. the science of life. in a panic of whispers and stabs.

what she wants overtakes her. the grunt of decision spoils the garden. what she was is lost.

pieces of a mirror afraid to look.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2021. All Rights Reserved.